


Variations on a Theme

by mastrechef



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon was too depressing, Fix-It, Gen, Nyx throws a wrench in Bahamut's plan, Pre-Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV, Reincarnation, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mastrechef/pseuds/mastrechef
Summary: Nyx Ulric was an old soul. From the moment he was born it was clear that he was different. Special. It had to be for a reason, so Nyx figured it was his turn to try and fix things.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Variations on a Theme

**Author's Note:**

> This is segmented a bit weirdly and ends on a kind of abrupt note, but the idea came at me out of nowhere and that's just how it wrote itself. And I honestly had no idea what to name this, so as usual I resorted to using music, and I happened to be listening to classical music today, so... yeah.  
> Enjoy, I guess?

Bolts of lightning snaked down from the sky with crackling claps of thunder, striking an MT dropship and reducing it to molten slag. Eyes of glowing ocean blue watched from a distant treetop as another ship was struck down. Calm and serene, Nyx was barely winded from the magic use, impressive as it was. Years ago, under Ramuh’s tutelage, he had learned to call lightning from a storm, which was much less taxing than pure elemancy. It was a useful skill given the frequency of both storms and Niflheim’s attacks on Galahd. Of course, one of those things was given some godly assistance, but it was true nonetheless.

Once the last dropship was downed, Nyx tossed a kukri to the forest floor. In sparks of purpley-blue magic he was whisked from the tree down to his blade. He signaled to the nearby hunters--his backup if the Nifs made landfall--then took off. He made his way through the dark, tangled corridors of trees with the grace of a born and bred forest-dweller, footsteps light and silent. Distant burbling grew steadily louder as he approached a creek, a small tributary that eventually met up with the River Galahd. He paused to take a drink of the cool water. The last dying rays of evening sunlight broke through the clearing cloud cover and dyed their undersides in brilliant shades of pink and gold. He stared heavenward in contemplation.

This was the third attack within a two week span. The Niflheim Empire had always been bold, but lately they had been really ramping up their efforts; they were persistent in their desire to take Galahd. Nyx had become part of the main line of defense and a large contributor to Galahd’s title as ‘Unconquerable.’ He didn’t mind the burden--felt it was his duty, even, as someone born with power. He had lost one home already, long ago though it was, and he wasn’t keen to lose another. Not without a fight.

And it was not just a home he had lost. It was everything. His entire life up in flames, the world irrevocably changed when one brother was sacrificed to the other’s jealousy. Truth was buried and an era ended as the Kinslayer rose to power. Nothing was ever the same after that.

Shaking his head at the turn of his thoughts, Nyx took off into the forest once more. He followed the general course of the creek as the land began to slope downward toward the river valley. The sky was fully dark by the time he reached the river, and with it home. He sped up into a light jog, twisting and turning through the winding streets until his house was in view. A single candle lay illuminated by the windowsill; his mother's way of beckoning him home safely. Likely she was waiting up still, as she always did when he was called away to defend their home. Slipping inside with nary a creak, he indeed found her awake, and greeted her with a wan smile.

Astia Ulric was a fierce and beautiful woman. It was only in the quiet of a night like this that she showed her vulnerability, worrying and waiting for the day that Nyx came back injured or didn’t come back at all. After all, no one's strength could last indefinitely. Someone or something stronger always came along eventually. Nyx had managed fine thus far, but there was never any guarantee.

His mother stroked his cheek softly and rested her forehead against his own. No words needed to be said. In an uncertain world where the tides could change in an instant, every moment together was a gift.

* * *

Nyx Ulric was an old soul. From the moment he was born it was clear that he was different. Special. Everyone could see it. There was no hiding it, not with the inheritance that flowed through his veins and sometimes exploded outward uncontrollably. Not with the way Ramuh took an active role in Nyx’s life, closer to him than he was with any other Galadhian. It was an irrefutable truth.

At the tender age of seven, Nyx became aware of the full scope of it.

King Regis had come to Galahd as a show of solidarity, to show those outside of Insomnia that they had not been abandoned despite The Wall having been pulled back six years ago. The islands had seen their fair share of attacks from Niflheim, but their warriors were strong, and aided as they were by the Fulgarian’s protection the Empire’s forces met with little success. Even so, the King came to show his support, and he didn’t hesitate for a second to jump into the fight when another assault came three days into his visit.

Surrounded by the ghostly blue weapons of the Armiger and throwing fire at the incoming Nif ships, the Lucian King cut an imposing figure. Nyx, obviously, wasn’t supposed to be there, but he had felt compelled, both by youthful curiosity and something more elusive. His eyes were glued to the spectacle before him. The air felt charged with more than the usual buzz of an oncoming storm. It was not long until all of the Magitek troops were down for the count, nothing but burning scrap metal being swallowed to the depths of the sea.

He wasn’t sure if King Regis felt the same pull or if it was complete chance that he glanced towards the treeline where Nyx was hiding out of sight. The second those green eyes met his own, something in him cracked. The air was punched from his lungs, and his vision flickered. Images, sounds,  _ memories _ drifted through his head like a sieve; some left the barest impression of a whisper or a touch before fading out, others were as clear and vivid as daydreams on a sunny afternoon. Places, people, events whirled in a confusing maelstrom and overloaded his senses.

Only after opening his eyes to stare blearily at an unfamiliar face above him did he realize he had closed them in the first place. Other sensations filtered in slowly after that: warmth, a woodsy scent mixed with sea salt, gentle swaying, a vague feeling of floating. Nyx blinked and tried to clear the fog from his head. What was going on? Had he been asleep? He recalled a fight of some sort. ( _ He was bleeding out, dying. Why had it come to this? _ ) Had he been fighting? No, that’s not right.

Midday sun shone down into his eyes from a break in the trees when he swore a moment ago it was night, starlight sparkling overhead. He let his eyes fall shut again rather than squint against the harsh brightness. Something teased at the back of his mind, something important.

The warmth retreated briefly, but returned when he was bundled up in his uncle's arms. Or was it his brother? Wait, no, he didn’t have a brother.  _ Oh _ , thought Nyx belatedly. That was what the floaty feeling was from.

His head flopped back to look at the man who had been carrying him before. Now that he could get a good look at it, the uniform and even more so the sword were unmistakable. They belonged to the single guard King Regis had brought with him. Nyx didn't know his name. The King had stepped up as well, visibly concerned, and was talking with his uncle, but Nyx couldn't make sense of the words, still muddled with the world phasing in and out of focus. He thought he saw a man with red hair next to the King ( _ not the King--usurper, kinslayer _ ), but he blinked and the man was gone.

It was getting harder for Nyx to remain coherent, exhaustion tugging him towards the sweet embrace of sleep. A comforting hand carding through his hair was the last thing he was aware of before succumbing to sleep.

And while he slept, he dreamed.

* * *

Nyx made the decision to leave for Insomnia to join the fight in earnest. “There’s more I can do,” he explained to his mother and Selene when they asked why. “There’s more I should be doing. Niflheim's not going to stop until Lucis falls or they meet with a strong resistance from all of Lucis, not just Galahd. Perhaps not even then. Either way, what we’re doing isn’t enough. If I can help bring this war to an end, then isn't it right that I do so?”

Journeying with him to Lucis' capital was a small group of Galahdian hunters. Libs and Crowe would never let him run off on his own, so of course they were the first to volunteer. Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara, Axis Arra, Sonitus Bellum, and Tredd Furia also joined the roster. Together, the eight of them would join the ranks of King Regis' elite soldiers.

Before they could leave, however, there was one thing Nyx had to do. The Galahdians had held their own long before Nyx had taken up his role as defender, but all the same, he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. There was a wealth of old, forgotten knowledge in his head, knowledge from a time when magic wasn’t so rare as to manifest in only two family lines. Even his first life had been after Solheim’s fall, yet it’s destruction had been recent enough that people still remembered, and Nyx had taken an interest in compiling as much information as he could, preserving the history and traditions of Solheim.

However, what he was about to do was even more of a lost art. Pretty much unknown compared to the Sage’s once renowned healing, he had a peculiar gift of his own. Awareness of this gift was limited for a very good reason. It was difficult to learn of that which by nature was hidden. You cannot see what is not there to be seen. You cannot sneak up on what can’t be found.

So with this gift, Nyx hid the whole of Galahd from sight, only to be found by those of Galahdian blood, who followed her ways and remained loyal to her people. No longer would Niflheimr ships darken their skies, nor their troops invade their shores. The already isolated islands became even more so, with only Galahd’s people able to come and go as they pleased.

* * *

He slept for a solid fourteen hours as his mind tried to sort itself out. There was a delicate balancing act going on in his head, integrating the memories of another time, another life, without harming the seven year old mind of his current self.

When Nyx did finally awaken, it was only with a hazy recollection of many of those memories. Certain things he could recall with perfect clarity: a lovely springtime lunch with his parents and two older brothers, eating dirt as his instructor tried to beat some swordsmanship into his head, a winter day spent sequestered in his personal library. For other things, it was more like a reimagining of a story he was told. The details were fuzzy and inconsistent, and there was no emotional connection.

As he grew older and was able to handle more, things came back slowly, filling in the gaps. It helped him keep aware of the difference, to differential then from now. He could remember more and more who he was and what had been without muddying his sense of identity as Nyx Ulric, son of Astia Ulric and Eres Innovo, older brother to Selene Ulric. Regardless of his past, he was now a child of Galahd, and of the storm.

The most glaring discrepancy in his memory was the fact that he could not remember how he died in his first life. Which generally could be considered a good thing; no kid should be forced to live with  _ that _ sort of knowledge. However it was concerning.

What could be so bad, so traumatizing that his very soul rejected any memory of it?

* * *

For all that Galahd was technically part of Lucis, seeing the Insomnians react to Nyx and his group you’d think they were from a whole other world. True, Galahd was pretty insular and didn’t interact much with the rest of Lucis, but that was mostly down to lack of effort on the Lucians part. In their ignorance, far too many saw Galahd as primitive and uncultured, when the truth was so very far from their narrow-minded viewpoint. And despite their opinions, it was doubtful they could even identify a Galahdian on sight.

Unsurprisingly, Libertus was the first to grumble about the Lucians’ attitudes, aiming a displeased scowl at a couple of gawkers. “They got nothing better to do than stare at us like some freakshow?”

“We’re a novelty to them. Most have probably never left Insomnia, and no Galahdian has ever set foot here,” said Luche. Nyx had never met Luche prior to this venture, but it wasn’t hard to like his practicality and his insight. The Lazarus clan oversaw Galahd’s trade industry and had dealt often with Tenebrae and the rest of Lucis. As such, aside from Tredd, Luche was the most familiar with mainlanders.

“Fuck that,” Crowe snorted. “Novelty or not, it’s fucking annoying.” While she may not have been Galahdian by blood, Crowe most assuredly was one in spirit. Her fierce heart and strong personality were reflections of that.

Nyx sighed. “It’s to be expected.” He himself was unbothered, too busy taking in the sight of the Crown City. It certainly was impressive; the towering buildings and fine architecture brought to mind descriptions he’d read of Solheim, if only in a more austere color scheme than the golden city of old.

“We should find lodgings for the night and rest up. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow,” said Pelna. A distant cousin of Nyx’s from his father’s side, Pelna was the oldest of the group and had a habit of mothering the rest of them.

They were all dusty and travel-worn, so there were no complaints. Finding said lodging, however, was more of an ordeal than it should have been. Everywhere they went they were mistaken for refugees and turned away before they could clarify that no, they weren’t refugees and yes, they had money to pay for their stay.

That was how they found themselves heading to the refugee district in Insomnia’s lower levels. Well, they would have had to look for permanent housing sooner or later, but tired as they were from their journey and disgruntled by the Lucians’ oh so warm welcome, no one was happy about the change in plans. What they found there was appalling.

The squalor that those who’d lost their homes were forced to live in was as far from the clean, lavish upper levels that it might as well have been a trash dump. Dirty, cramped, and filled with derelict buildings that by all rights should have been condemned, it was hard to believe this was the same city. The people, too, were wholly different, dreary and downtrodden, but still trying to eke out a living.

Sonitus was the one to voice the disbelief they were all feeling. “This is how they treat refugees? Are we really fighting for people who let this happen?” While they were all outraged, for Sonitus it was especially galling as a member of one of the old clans that followed a strict code of conduct.

Even Axis, who typically followed the others quietly and with an inscrutable expression any gambler would be envious of, was frowning in distaste.

“No,” Nyx said, shaking his head, “we’re not fighting for  _ them _ .” Blue eyes blazed. Like the Bellum, he believed in chivalry, in things like benevolence and honor and justice. “We’re fighting for Galahd, for these refugees, for those who have been beaten down and oppressed. We’re fighting to end this war and to show Niflheim that they can’t step all over us.”

While asking around about housing, every one of the refugees they spoke with was kind in the way that those of little means tended to be. The Lucian landlords were decidedly not, and charged exorbitant amounts for poor quality living space and restrictive lease agreements. It was positively criminal.

“What kind of shitty excuse for an apartment is this?” Tredd was as vocally loud as his vibrant hair color, and nearly always in a snit about something. He was a strong fighter by virtue of the Furia making up most of Galahd’s border defense, and he was generally reliable, so his short temper was usually overlooked. Unless the asshole started taking it out on one of them. That was just asking for a smackdown.

Luche gave a displeased scowl. “It’s either this, or we sleep on the streets.”

“Yeah, I vote not in the streets,” Crowe said with a scathing look out the window, the sharp bite to her words a warning to any who dared contradict her.

“Definitely not,” Pelna agreed. “Not in these unsanitary conditions.”

It was hardly an ideal situation, but they made do. So as not to blow the entirety of their pooled resources, they got only two apartments to split between the eight of them; until they each had a steady income they were stuck cohabiting. Nyx, Libertus, Crowe, and Pelna took one while Luche, Tredd, Sonitus, and Axis took the other. Small mercies, both apartments at least came pre-furnished with the basics.

Nyx wouldn’t take no for an answer when he suggested his cousin take the single bed as he, Libs, and Crowe were perfectly comfortable sleeping in a pile on the floor. To make it slightly more bearable, they threw together their bed rolls and some sofa cushions. Frankly, it wasn’t much different from camping out on the bare rock of a haven, only with the distinct lack of open air and the glittering belt of stars overhead.

Sleep was not easy for Nyx that night, coming in fits and bursts. It was strange being in a new, unfamiliar city, and inside the Wall no less. Out beyond it, even after the passage of millenia, there was still some sense of familiarity with the landscapes, the flora and the fauna. Here in Insomnia, everything was a bit uncertain, and Nyx had to restrain the urge to flinch at every unknown noise that cut through the thin walls of the apartment.

Everyone was up early the next day to hunt down some breakfast before meeting with the recruitment officers. Nyx was hardly the only one covering up tired yawns.

The gray light of pre-dawn did little to improve the look of the refugee district. It was still just as filthy and rundown, and already it was buzzing with activity. Others were also rising for the day, some headed to the upper levels for work, some opening up shops within the district. The delectable smell of fresh baked goods wafted from a small hole-in-the-wall cafe, which the group of Galahdians descended upon like a pack of hungry coeurls.

Once they were fed and energized for the day, they made their way back to the upper levels and towards the city center. The recruitment office was just off the main street, settled before the towering structure of the Citadel. A handful of Crownsguard manned the near empty office. Nyx took point for the group and addressed the lone ‘Guard seated at the desk, stating their intent to join the King’s forces.

“You don’t look to be from here,” the officer said, rather stating the obvious.

Nyx resisted the urge to roll his eyes, simply stating, “We’re from Galahd.”

“From Galahd, huh. Hunters?”

“Ceramist, actually,” Nyx corrected. He was inordinately amused by the officer’s doubletake. All Galahdians were raised as hunters, but it was hardly the extent of their professional occupations as most Lucians seemed to think. Case in point, Nyx had learned from his mother how to craft stoneware dishes and fine porcelain tea sets. His cousin Pelna had been a fisherman, Libertus a chef and apprentice brewer with plans to one day open his own bar. Axis was their resident masalcı, a storyteller and keeper of Galahd’s spoken histories.

The Lucian forces were in desperate need of more soldiers, so the group was ushered directly into testing without delay. Starting off was an aptitude test to determine what specializations each was most suited for. Next after that was rigorous physical testing, for which they were escorted to a training hall within the Citadel proper. The examiners pushed them to the limits of their endurance running drill after drill, then went on to test their weapons proficiency.

Saved for last was the magic compatibility test, which wouldn’t take place until the end of the week, when the King would be available. That would determine whether or not they could join the King’s newest division, the Kingsglaive. The ones actually fighting on the front lines.

Nyx just knew that they’d all take well to the King’s magic. The islands had a subtle magic of their own, woven into the very being of each and every Galahdian. It wouldn’t take long for the others to adapt to the Lucis Caelum’s brand of magic. If anyone had cause for concern, it was himself, he who already wielded magic. He was under the Old Man’s protection, but at the same time this was the heart of Bahamut’s domain. Given who Nyx used to be, there was the distinct possibility that the Draconian might try to smite him out of existence out of sheer spite.

He really hoped it didn’t come to that.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a vague idea of where this story is headed, but all the other bits I have written out are within the Kingsglaive movie time frame, and there's stuff in between that needs to happen, which is mostly a big blank. We'll just have to see where my muse takes me.


End file.
